Chapter 32 A Malevolent Spirit.
Guy Patterson stopped at the door to Section C’s Lab 3, and checked his watch. The light from the corridor illuminated the dial. It was 4:46 in the morning. He had a bad feeling about coming down here tonight. He checked these labs from time to time over the years many times without any second thoughts. Tonight he felt different. He couldn’t explain it or precisely describe the feeling. He just knew it wasn’t a good feeling. Guy Patterson’s other job was a cop, he had taken this position for a second income. It was a grueling existence. His kids hardly recognized him anymore, his wife thought he was having an affair, and he could never get enough sleep, becoming dependent on coffee, no-doze and other over-the-counter stimulants; but for the first time in a decade, he’d started to get ahead of his bills.
Patterson’s police training made him an excellent security guard, and he had good cop instincts as well. Something about Mr. Felix’s warnings had chilled him, despite the lack of any kind of specific threat. He’d met Mr. Felix several times at various meetings, and he’d seemed an edgy, but unpretentious kind of guy, for a corporate desk jockey. Consciously, Guy Patterson could not articulate, or put his finger on the incongruity between Mr. Felix’s strange claims, and the remote possibility that he’d make any kind of outlandish pronouncements in the first place. On a deeper level though, it triggered his cop’s instincts. He didn’t know Mr. Felix very well, only enough to know that his words of caution had been sincere. It would be foolish to disregard them.
That’s why he experienced a moment of hesitation before he punched his universal pass code, pushed the door open and entered the darkened laboratory. He released the door to let it close and just stood there, allowing his eyes to adjust to the limited light. Deep down, he knew he was on a wild goose chase, but Mr. Felix was the director of the facility. He figured ‘the boss asks you for a favor, and promises budget increases, so you do the favor. And then you hope he keeps his word.’ If he’s decent, he’ll keep his word. If he’s an asshole, he’ll forget you as soon as the favor’s done. But you gotta do the favor. He figured it would be simple enough to come down, have a look around, and have something to tell Mr. Felix the next time they talked. The door closed behind him with a soft thud.
He reached for his flashlight and flipped it on. He aimed it toward the floor, as he walked forward into the gloom. He was more or less familiar with the layout, as all three sections of the facility were similar, and all of the labs were functionally identical; to be honest, it never occurred to him to switch the lights on, even though the switches were right next to the door. If anything was prowling around out of its cage, he wanted to catch it in the act.
That door, the one through which he’d entered, was toward the front right side of the lab as he entered, so most of the room was in front of him and to his left. Over to his left lab tables and equipment faded into the darkness. Ahead and on his right were the three, utilitarian office cubicles that were standard in every lab. A single lamp, burning in one of the cubicles, acted like a night-light.
The rest of the room was devoted to caged animals; several rows of them, that extended from the front of the room, back into the shadows of the back of the laboratory. He aimed the flashlight into the cubicles and walked slowly past them. As he continued further into the lab, he shined the beam on the occupants of the cages on either side of him as he passed. Some of them were sleeping, perhaps even dreaming, and did not appear disturbed or even aware of him. Other animals were keenly aware of his presence. There was an eerie quality to their behavior. Not an animal expert, he couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something wasn’t quite right.
He came to an intersection, an aisle that bisected all the other aisles. Although he could have kept going straight, he paused and turned left. Coming to the second aisle, he stopped and flashed the beam in both directions. To his right was a large darkened doorway, to his left, about thirty feet away, something glittered seemingly out of place. He shined his light to the left and walked slowly in that direction. From a distance of about twenty feet, he could see that a cage door was open. He approached the cage cautiously and scanned its’ interior with the flashlight beam. It was empty. It was the bottom-most cage and there was another cage above it with a medium-sized primate in it. He spun around quickly and shined his light in both directions up and down the aisle. Nothing else moved. Then he shined the beam above him. The cages rose to a height of about 12 feet on either side. He felt strategically exposed, like a cowboy in a steel canyon, ripe for an ambush from above.
He deftly shifted the flashlight to his left hand, reached gingerly down to his holster, and unsnapped the cover flap. He slid his hand over the handle and gripped the gun firmly without removing it from its’ holster. He moved cautiously back to the intersection, and shined the light on the animals in the corner cages immediately to his right. They were cowering at the back of their cages: Two small, silent, petrified primates. He turned and put his back to their cages. With his gun still in his holster, but firmly in the grip of his right hand, he swept the aisles in all four directions with the flashlight. Starting from his left, then straight ahead of him, then looking to his right, and finally shining the light over his shoulder, almost behind him, back the way he had come. Nothing moved.
He shined his light along the length of the aisle toward the back of the room. There was a doorway at the end of the aisle, wide and dark. He flashed his light into the open doorway and glints of cage reflected back at him, like glistening teeth in a giant maw. There was a vile taste in his mouth and he swallowed hard.
Patterson was old school, he did not believe in drawing his weapon unless he intended to use it, but this was unfamiliar territory. He felt vulnerable, if not exactly threatened, and so, with methodical devotion to procedure, he took one step forward and slowly eased his weapon out of its holster. He raised the gun with his right hand and the flashlight with his left, sighting the weapon wherever the flashlight beam shone. He held them out in front of him, arms extended as his training dictated. He checked to his left, then behind him and then to his right. Then he focused his attention on the back of the room and the wide, darkened doorway. He moved forward slowly, one step at a time. A drop of sweat rolled down between his furrowed brows and down the bridge of his nose, tickling him as it went. He wiped the sweat off his nose on his left sleeve, mumbling a curse under his breath as he did so. That’ll probably leave a stain. He abruptly raked the flashlight beam across the tops of the cages on either side of him and then trained it back on the doorway in front of him. The room was cold. He knew that, as a matter of simple fact. The temperature in these labs was kept at a constant, and fairly, cool temperature. There was no reason for him to be sweating. Only fear or exertion could make you sweat in a room this cold. He knew this, as he moved slowly forward down the aisle.
He neared the end of the row of cages and was a mere seven or eight feet from the doorway. The beam of light illuminated the cages in the room and the animals in them. Two, four, six, at least a half a dozen sets of eyes glowed back at him from their cages in the darkness. Tense and slightly hunched over, he took another step forward, and then another and stopped. He swept the beam back and forth through the doorway and up the stacked cages. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a sudden movement to his left. He pivoted to track the movement, and was quick enough to catch the briefest glimpse of a hairy rump as it rounded a far row of cages. He straightened up, exhaled, and lowered his weapon a few inches.
At the instant of his heightened confidence, he felt a presence to his right, within the darkened doorway; but that was impossible! There was nothing there! He didn’t have to look, with just his peripheral vision he could see that nothing was there. He remained focused on the aisle in front of him, but he couldn’t deny that he sensed something in the room, like a malevolent spirit, not completely imaginary, but not real either. His mind rejected the notion as illogical. There was nothing there. He stole a quick glance to his right and confirmed his unshakeable view of reality. There was nothing there. He’d been drinking too much coffee.
Two powerful arms dropped out of the darkness above him and clamped themselves over both his hand, and the gun. Stunned, and caught in a vice-like grip, Patterson gaped open mouthed and with his eyes, followed the arms back, and up to the face that went with them. Patterson saw the face of an ape-like creature, upside-down, with orange hair and wild, hate-filled eyes, its’ enormous teeth bared and dripping with saliva.
Guy Patterson stopped at the door to Section C’s Lab 3, and checked his watch. The light from the corridor illuminated the dial. It was 4:46 in the morning. He had a bad feeling about coming down here tonight. He checked these labs from time to time over the years many times without any second thoughts. Tonight he felt different. He couldn’t explain it or precisely describe the feeling. He just knew it wasn’t a good feeling. Guy Patterson’s other job was a cop, he had taken this position for a second income. It was a grueling existence. His kids hardly recognized him anymore, his wife thought he was having an affair, and he could never get enough sleep, becoming dependent on coffee, no-doze and other over-the-counter stimulants; but for the first time in a decade, he’d started to get ahead of his bills.
Patterson’s police training made him an excellent security guard, and he had good cop instincts as well. Something about Mr. Felix’s warnings had chilled him, despite the lack of any kind of specific threat. He’d met Mr. Felix several times at various meetings, and he’d seemed an edgy, but unpretentious kind of guy, for a corporate desk jockey. Consciously, Guy Patterson could not articulate, or put his finger on the incongruity between Mr. Felix’s strange claims, and the remote possibility that he’d make any kind of outlandish pronouncements in the first place. On a deeper level though, it triggered his cop’s instincts. He didn’t know Mr. Felix very well, only enough to know that his words of caution had been sincere. It would be foolish to disregard them.
That’s why he experienced a moment of hesitation before he punched his universal pass code, pushed the door open and entered the darkened laboratory. He released the door to let it close and just stood there, allowing his eyes to adjust to the limited light. Deep down, he knew he was on a wild goose chase, but Mr. Felix was the director of the facility. He figured ‘the boss asks you for a favor, and promises budget increases, so you do the favor. And then you hope he keeps his word.’ If he’s decent, he’ll keep his word. If he’s an asshole, he’ll forget you as soon as the favor’s done. But you gotta do the favor. He figured it would be simple enough to come down, have a look around, and have something to tell Mr. Felix the next time they talked. The door closed behind him with a soft thud.
He reached for his flashlight and flipped it on. He aimed it toward the floor, as he walked forward into the gloom. He was more or less familiar with the layout, as all three sections of the facility were similar, and all of the labs were functionally identical; to be honest, it never occurred to him to switch the lights on, even though the switches were right next to the door. If anything was prowling around out of its cage, he wanted to catch it in the act.
That door, the one through which he’d entered, was toward the front right side of the lab as he entered, so most of the room was in front of him and to his left. Over to his left lab tables and equipment faded into the darkness. Ahead and on his right were the three, utilitarian office cubicles that were standard in every lab. A single lamp, burning in one of the cubicles, acted like a night-light.
The rest of the room was devoted to caged animals; several rows of them, that extended from the front of the room, back into the shadows of the back of the laboratory. He aimed the flashlight into the cubicles and walked slowly past them. As he continued further into the lab, he shined the beam on the occupants of the cages on either side of him as he passed. Some of them were sleeping, perhaps even dreaming, and did not appear disturbed or even aware of him. Other animals were keenly aware of his presence. There was an eerie quality to their behavior. Not an animal expert, he couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something wasn’t quite right.
He came to an intersection, an aisle that bisected all the other aisles. Although he could have kept going straight, he paused and turned left. Coming to the second aisle, he stopped and flashed the beam in both directions. To his right was a large darkened doorway, to his left, about thirty feet away, something glittered seemingly out of place. He shined his light to the left and walked slowly in that direction. From a distance of about twenty feet, he could see that a cage door was open. He approached the cage cautiously and scanned its’ interior with the flashlight beam. It was empty. It was the bottom-most cage and there was another cage above it with a medium-sized primate in it. He spun around quickly and shined his light in both directions up and down the aisle. Nothing else moved. Then he shined the beam above him. The cages rose to a height of about 12 feet on either side. He felt strategically exposed, like a cowboy in a steel canyon, ripe for an ambush from above.
He deftly shifted the flashlight to his left hand, reached gingerly down to his holster, and unsnapped the cover flap. He slid his hand over the handle and gripped the gun firmly without removing it from its’ holster. He moved cautiously back to the intersection, and shined the light on the animals in the corner cages immediately to his right. They were cowering at the back of their cages: Two small, silent, petrified primates. He turned and put his back to their cages. With his gun still in his holster, but firmly in the grip of his right hand, he swept the aisles in all four directions with the flashlight. Starting from his left, then straight ahead of him, then looking to his right, and finally shining the light over his shoulder, almost behind him, back the way he had come. Nothing moved.
He shined his light along the length of the aisle toward the back of the room. There was a doorway at the end of the aisle, wide and dark. He flashed his light into the open doorway and glints of cage reflected back at him, like glistening teeth in a giant maw. There was a vile taste in his mouth and he swallowed hard.
Patterson was old school, he did not believe in drawing his weapon unless he intended to use it, but this was unfamiliar territory. He felt vulnerable, if not exactly threatened, and so, with methodical devotion to procedure, he took one step forward and slowly eased his weapon out of its holster. He raised the gun with his right hand and the flashlight with his left, sighting the weapon wherever the flashlight beam shone. He held them out in front of him, arms extended as his training dictated. He checked to his left, then behind him and then to his right. Then he focused his attention on the back of the room and the wide, darkened doorway. He moved forward slowly, one step at a time. A drop of sweat rolled down between his furrowed brows and down the bridge of his nose, tickling him as it went. He wiped the sweat off his nose on his left sleeve, mumbling a curse under his breath as he did so. That’ll probably leave a stain. He abruptly raked the flashlight beam across the tops of the cages on either side of him and then trained it back on the doorway in front of him. The room was cold. He knew that, as a matter of simple fact. The temperature in these labs was kept at a constant, and fairly, cool temperature. There was no reason for him to be sweating. Only fear or exertion could make you sweat in a room this cold. He knew this, as he moved slowly forward down the aisle.
He neared the end of the row of cages and was a mere seven or eight feet from the doorway. The beam of light illuminated the cages in the room and the animals in them. Two, four, six, at least a half a dozen sets of eyes glowed back at him from their cages in the darkness. Tense and slightly hunched over, he took another step forward, and then another and stopped. He swept the beam back and forth through the doorway and up the stacked cages. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a sudden movement to his left. He pivoted to track the movement, and was quick enough to catch the briefest glimpse of a hairy rump as it rounded a far row of cages. He straightened up, exhaled, and lowered his weapon a few inches.
At the instant of his heightened confidence, he felt a presence to his right, within the darkened doorway; but that was impossible! There was nothing there! He didn’t have to look, with just his peripheral vision he could see that nothing was there. He remained focused on the aisle in front of him, but he couldn’t deny that he sensed something in the room, like a malevolent spirit, not completely imaginary, but not real either. His mind rejected the notion as illogical. There was nothing there. He stole a quick glance to his right and confirmed his unshakeable view of reality. There was nothing there. He’d been drinking too much coffee.
Two powerful arms dropped out of the darkness above him and clamped themselves over both his hand, and the gun. Stunned, and caught in a vice-like grip, Patterson gaped open mouthed and with his eyes, followed the arms back, and up to the face that went with them. Patterson saw the face of an ape-like creature, upside-down, with orange hair and wild, hate-filled eyes, its’ enormous teeth bared and dripping with saliva.